In my young days I often wished I could have an opportunity to save a human life; indeed, I have always held myself in readiness to plunge into any depth of water up to four feet if occasion should arise, and it is all the more remarkable that I really didn't think of having saved Mr. Fairman's life until he mentioned it. But when I looked back I saw that I had saved him at least four times in a quarter of an hour. First, by not abandoning my post when the horse tried to sit down in the buggy; second, by overcoming his impulse to jump out by my cold dispassionate logic; third, by holding him in the seat when we approached the river; fourth, by rescuing him from the shipwrecked buggy in perfect condition for his wedding. When we met William Wedder hurrying along the road in search of us, his anxious and crestfallen air showing how much he regretted having been the cause of the accident, I did not stop to reproach him but sent him on to bring the horse and buggy to Waydean. Fortunately, Aunt Sophy and Marion, knowing nothing of our adventure, had been spared much anxiety, and it was not until after the brief marriage ceremony that Mr. Fairman related how, but for my heroic conduct, Aunt Sophy would not now be Mrs. Fairman. I must say he did me a little more than justice, and I did my best to faintly depreciate my heroism. I found Aunt Sophy's warm-hearted and impulsive demonstration most embarrassing, but it was a peculiar expression of scepticism on Marion's face that made me wish I had not been accused of acting heroically. It was not until the Fairmans had departed and the flutter of Aunt Sophy's handkerchief from the car-window was no longer visible that Marion had a chance to speak to me alone; then she lost no time. "Now," she said, turning to me with an impatient little tap of her foot, "I want to know the truth about that horse. Didn't you only pretend he ran away?" "Pretend!" I exclaimed, with rightful indignation, the muscles of my arms still tingling with the strain. "Yes," she insisted, with the resolute look that I knew only too well; a look meaning that no matter what the evidence I would be adjudged guilty; naturally, I flushed under her gaze. "I knew from your manner that you had done something you were ashamed of. Did you do it for one of those insane practical jokes, or because you wanted to convince Mr. Fairman that you are the paragon that Aunt Sophy thinks you?" My irritation vanished; being innocent, I could forgive my wife's suspicion. "The fact is, Marion," I explained, with complete candor, "that brute of Joe Wrigley's had the bit between his teeth and I couldn't stop him." She laughed scornfully. "He had the bit between his teeth! Just what you told poor Mr. Fairman. May I ask where you would have liked his bit to be? Between his eyes or his ears, perhaps. If you had a bit in your mouth wouldn't it have to be between your teeth?"